nonsensical nicknames

stayed awake til 4am last night rushing out 3 essays. i think im a workaholic now, but a happy one. im doing all the things i love, drawing, writing, writing, designing, conceptualising, history, [insert a bit of math] sketching, writing haaha. and we get to meet new people almost everyday, cos its just one month into the course maybe. ONLY? its ONE MONTH! geez. time flies. i have accumulated many nicknames, like potato, sandwich girl, fishie, philosopher, green bean i dunno lah randomness that has to do with my dietary habits, my ineptness in communicating with the Mother Tongue, participation in usp, and F-felicia. nicknames dont have to make sense. they just stick.
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there are presentations every week, think im getting the hang of it but it is always so funny how my friends n the way i converse differently- its a whole new ball game everytime i step into the USP campus or back into Archi school, and then with my RJ hockey friends, or my church friends. a part of me seems to evolve, change, be lost for whatever moment in time until i am plunged into a different social context. one thing i hate about architecture though, is the opportunities it gives for people to bullshit their way and be self-important, jargonistic bombastic: like during lecture, some guy asked some question

what do you want to be the relationship between our experience of the places we visited and the actual architectural formulation of the place?

i already watered down the question okay? self-indulgent nonsense. and the teacher's answer?

all or nothing. you either express it in full, or not at all.

i liked the way the teacher repeated the whole question back at him without missing a beat and asked him to make his question clearer. it was an inner oomph of vengeance. satisfying.

my friends are all flying away to various parts- scotland, us, uk.. for once i wish i stayed in the east so travelling to the airport can be balanced with the infinite assignment deadlines on hand. sigh. bye doreen, do take care share the love and have fun.

psalm63rocks.

i looked out the bus window and saw a cardboard box, the plain brown ones used to transport bulky items: but printed in black marker across it: 22. i turned to royston n said 'eh, 22!' and looked again, and realised that the whole truck was stacked and filled from top to bottom left and right with a zillion brown cardboard boxes, all of them with the masking tape across it labelled 22. OH GOSH. creepy.